


Dark Dreams

by xannish



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Post-Canon, Sounding, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xannish/pseuds/xannish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, yes. I know what you’ve been dreaming. And they weren’t dreams of my creation, Jack. Not entirely. You willed it, too. And is it a surprise? I think not. You live for thrill. And what is thrill but a pleasurable fear, hm?”</p><p>(Post-Rise of the Guardians. Terrible, terrible porn that I wrote back in 2013 and never posted publicly. UNTIL NOW.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boywonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/gifts).



Three months after the battle against Pitch, Jack’s dreams began. North, who had been a warrior in his life before becoming a Guardian, waved them off, assuring him that it was normal, after a battle. The way the mind dealt with the tension. They would fade.

But they didn’t fade—they deepened. And they weren’t just dreams. They were _nightmares._ Well. Mostly. There were parts of the dreams he couldn’t tell anyone about. Not even his fellow Guardians. _Especially_ not his fellow Guardians. And it was starting to make sleep… uncomfortable.

This dream began like many others. A snowfield—but not one he had created. The cold burned the way it had when he’d been mortal. And then, from the whiteness, grew a shadow, rising impossibly tall, taking the form of their enemy who had defeated him once before, in a place much like this… No, in this exact place.

Jack felt his heart pounding in his chest, raised his staff—and found it already broken, lifeless, taking Jack’s power with it.

Pitch surged forward, catching Jack’s wrists. Jack tried to struggle away, but the Nightmare King was too strong. He smiled, showing very sharp teeth.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

“Let me go!” Jack retorted, jerking his chin up defiantly.

 “Or what? You’ll glare me to death?” He laughed. “This is my realm you’ve stumbled into, boy. Or shall I say that you’ve sought out?”

Jack didn’t deign to answer, instead focusing on trying to summon up enough strength to get away. But there were shadows flowing out from Pitch’s cloak, curling themselves around him like a soft but confining blanket, wrapping around his legs, twining up his body like fluid running uphill, at last flowing up to take the place of their master’s hands, binding him, holding him steady.

Pitch reached out and stroked a long finger down the side of his cheek. “Oh, yes. I know what you’ve been dreaming. And they weren’t dreams of my creation, Jack. Not entirely. You willed it, too. And is it a surprise? I think not. You live for thrill. And what is thrill but a pleasurable fear, hm?” His hand wrapped around Jack’s throat, and he oozed closer, the tendrils of shadow wrapping more tightly around the boy.

“Does this thrill you, Jack?”

He wanted to argue, to say no, of course it didn’t, but those weren’t the words that formed in his mouth when he began to speak. “Yes,” he whispered instead. And it was true. Slick, soft shadows were creeping up beneath his clothing, tracing razored-feather touches along his legs, his thighs, his stomach. And as the Nightmare King smiled, he felt them shift, taking on more substance, coiling into ropes, or—no, more like fingers. He felt them circle around the sensitive skin of his balls—and gasped wordlessly as a loop of the stuff curled its way around his cock, which, he had to admit, had already been hard before he’d been touched. He couldn’t move his head to see, but it felt like, beneath his clothing, that tendril was crawling its way up his cock, like a snake wrapped around it in a spiral, the narrow tip searching for the head.

Meanwhile, another strand had worked its way back, and was nuzzling its way between the cheeks of his ass in an alarmingly _living_ way, squirming in against him as if it knew what it was looking for.

“Yes,” Pitch repeated, hissing the word.

The tendril pushed in.

It was narrow, at first, not painful at all, thinner than the finger he had thought of it as, and the other shadows wrapped around and teasing the head of his cock were so intensely, uncomfortably pleasurable that he didn’t even really resist the intrusion. But it slithered in quickly, and its width quickly grew, stretching him open. Too much wider, too quickly, becoming instantly uncomfortable. And worse, he could feel the tip still moving inside of him, seeking its way even deeper. Jack cried out in pain and fear, and Pitch hissed with pleasure.

“You dreamed of me,” the Nightmare King taunted, “and I imagine it was more than just _cold sweat_ that drenched you when you awoke--but I haven’t had a chance to show you what _I_ enjoy.”

Pitch ran his hand down Jack’s chest, and Jack’s clothes parted at the touch, unraveling into threads that fell onto the snow, leaving him blindingly exposed. Pitch’s hand paused at his navel for just a moment before diving deeper, slipping beneath Jack’s waistband, curving around his erection. His fingers had so much the same texture as the shadow-tendrils that Jack couldn’t tell them apart by touch… except that Pitch’s hand eventually pulled away, and the tightening tentacles didn’t.

“Deeper,” Pitch whispered, a word of command, and the shadows obeyed.

The invading tentacle plunged itself further into Jack’s ass, slick and writhing as it wormed its way up into his body. Jack could feel it moving inside of him, terrible but perversely arousing as well. Meanwhile, the ones wrapped around his cock continued to work at it, one pointed tip teasing at the hole, as if playing with the glistening drops of icy liquid already gathered there.

“Deeper,” Pitch repeated, louder.

Jack felt like his rectum was going to tear open as the thick member coiled and drove itself in, nearly the width of his wrist already and growing. But worse, the tendrils on his cock responded to the words as well, and the thin strand of shadow that had been teasing its tip slid itself _into_ his urethra. Stars bloomed in Jack’s vision, and he felt his knees go weak. But the shadows held him, not letting him fall.

Pitch gestured again, and the shadows that held him shifted, turning Jack around, and, despite his attempts at protest, spreading his legs further, bending his torso down so that his violated ass was on display, even as the enormous shadow-snake writhed in place.

“Very nice,” Pitch remarked, and there was the soft crunch of snow as he stepped even closer. “Very, very nice.”

Jack just shuddered in the shadowy grasp, unable to even form words, though he at least didn’t give Pitch the satisfaction of crying out further. And while the thin shadow plugging his cock didn’t move, the one impaling his ass actually began to withdraw, slithering wetly out of his stretched hole, leaving an aching emptiness in its wake… but before it had a chance to withdraw completely, something far hotter and more solid joined it there. Something Jack had dreamed about, and even now and then imagined in his lazy waking moments: Pitch’s cock.

Pitch’s hands gripped Jack’s hips, and guided his body, still suspended in the air and sheathed in shadows, into the perfect position. He didn’t give Jack much time to contemplate what was happening before he thrust himself deeply in.

Jack moaned, the thick heat of it seeming to light his nerves on fire, melting something deep within him, and his own erection responded, twitching in the tentacled grasp that held it, and, to his shame, somehow allowing the shadow within it to crawl even deeper.

Pitch didn’t even seem to be paying attention to his reactions, now, lost in the pleasure of raping the beautiful young ass spread before him, savoring the mixed fear and pleasure that poured from the new-made Guardian. He slammed himself into Jack, and Jack did cry out, now, though it was far more in pleasure than in pain, letting go of everything but the physical sensations building, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then they did overwhelm him, and he was coming, shuddering, expelling that strand of shadow with a wave of come which jetted from his cock and fell to the frozen ground, already crystalizing by the time it touched snow.

Pitch groaned, picking up his pace, his strength overwhelming, as if he was trying to tear Jack apart with every fierce thrust of his impossibly rigid phallus, and for a moment Jack feared that was exactly what would happen—the shadows would rip him limb from limb and he would die there, impaled on the Nightmare King’s cock, nothing but a toy to be used and discarded, never to be found or even remembered.

And that fear was what Pitch needed. He hissed, slamming himself into Jack one final time as he finally came, pouring burning hot seed deep into the boy’s insides, filling him with more and more, until Jack could feel the liquid sloshing around in his already-stretched rectum. Pitch held him there, for a long moment, hands on Jack’s hips, and then bent over him, pressing his chest against Jack’s back as his hands slid up to wrap around the boy, holding him close.

Slowly, the shadows melted away, until Jack realized he was being held up only by the larger man’s arms—and the cock slowly softening inside him.

“Mmm, yes. I believe we should do this again,” Pitch murmured against Jack’s ear. “Tomorrow night?”

Jack started to respond, but before he could say anything, the arms holding him let go, and he was falling—falling, as the snow rose up toward his face, and he landed hard on – his bed?

Jack sat up, and looked around. It was night. At home. And he was alone. Of course. A dream.

He forced out a little laugh and ran his hand through his hair. “Right. Just a dream.”

But while he could dismiss most of it, he couldn’t dismiss the aching emptiness in his ass, the wetness that dripped from it even now… or the words that echoed still in his head: _Tomorrow night._

Tomorrow night. Jack actually thought he might be looking forward to it.


End file.
